


Lovers (Live A Little Longer)

by paintingraves (kallistob)



Series: Take A Chance On Me [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Family Dinner, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Married Couple, Meet the Family, Nervous Eskel, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Smut, copious amounts of flirting, it's soft (tm), witchers have a bad reputation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/pseuds/paintingraves
Summary: They are all ogling him, taking the Witcher in from head to foot: from his yellow eyes to his scars to his jerkin, gloves, dagger scabbard and heavy boots. Eskel comes one step too close and hears the sudden spike in their heartbeats. His stomach churns. The old lady is looking at him with wide eyes, her hand in front of her mouth, andthere’sthe pungent smell of fear permeating the air around the three humans.--Eskel is nervous about meeting his husband's family for the first time, and with good reason.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Take A Chance On Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750861
Comments: 32
Kudos: 330





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The outfit Eskel wears is something like [[this]](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/54/d1/6e/54d16efbb1e67f6baa825b63260057a0.jpg) , including the braid :) him look good!! 
> 
> New readers, this can be read as a stand alone, but it will make much more sense if you read the first part in the series first! 
> 
> I enjoy this verse and said i'd write more so. here i am! I hope you enjoy this! <3

“... But are you _really_ sure about this?” Eskel asks dubiously for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Yes, I am sure." Jaskier taps Eskel's shoulder. "Head down, please.” The burly man plunges his head beneath the water of the bath obediently, and re-emerges shaking it like a wet dog to keep his hair out of his face. 

He rubs his eyes, and looks up sideways at Jaskier who's sitting on a stool to his right next to the wooden bathtub. Eskel opens his mouth to protest again, then seems to think the better of it and deflates. He lets Jaskier massage apple-scented oil through his hair to wash it, humming in appreciation. His husband smiles. 

Jaskier himself has already bathed earlier, and didn’t bother putting on clothes again. He doesn't feel self-conscious about his nakedness, not when he’s with Eskel, and neither does the Witcher. Both of them enjoy the comfortable, quiet intimacy of it. 

Tonight, they are staying in Lettenhove and getting ready for a significant event: Eskel is going to meet Jaskier's family for the first time. 

They’ve been married for a little more than three years now, and it is the normal thing to do. 

For a long time, Eskel tried to change the subject of conversation whenever Jaskier merely _hinted_ at the idea of meeting his parents just like he had met Eskel's family - the Witchers of Kaer Morhen - this past winter. He showed uneasiness, apprehension, and reluctance when faced with the perspective of a family reunion where he'd be formally introduced as Jaskier's soulmate and his husband. Eskel knows too well how people normally react to Witchers: with fear and disgust, not warm welcomes and blind trust. He fears a brutal reaction from Jaskier's parents and doesn't want to be the cause of a rift in Jaskier's family. 

But Jaskier? Jaskier is sanguine. He is _proud_ to call Eskel his husband, and he wants to share that happiness he's found with the people he loves. Besides, it's not like his parents will be caught unaware. Since his last visit Jaskier has kept writing to them regularly, and in his last few letters he informed them first, that he had finally found his soulmate and that he would dearly like to introduce _him_ to the family - a news to which his mother replied with joy and a hefty amount of curiosity. So Jaskier replied back kindly giving her some information about Eskel, including but not limited to the fact that he was a Witcher (yes Mother you read that right) and the kindest, most loving man Jaskier has ever met. 

He also told her that they'd be in Lettenhove in a week. 

Therefore, his parents both had ample time to digest all of that. Jaskier received a last missive back two days ago from his mother telling him they’d be happy to have them both for dinner this Saturday, and here they were. There was no going back on their words, even though Eskel may be feeling deeply insecure or worried. 

Jaskier tips the man's head back to press a kiss to his forehead, talking in a soothing voice. "The evening will pass quickly, you'll see. You're wonderful, love, they'll like you - I know they will.” 

“Thanks," replies Eskel dryly. "But I’m a Witcher. I'm… Not exactly ideal husband material. Normal people fear me, Jaskier - as well they should. We're inhuman and monstrous - no, don't make that face, it's not self-deprecation when it's a _fact_. I look so scary children run away when they see me." 

“Yes, but _I_ know you're not a monster," Jaskier says firmly. "Far from it. Yes you may be all muscly and scarred, but you're also very kind and caring, terrifyingly smart, good with magic, well-educated, sensible, and _very_ handsome and I love you. Now do you prefer the smell of sandalwood or pine?” 

“Sandalwood,” Eskel murmurs, the tips of his ears flushed red. He shifts in the bath and the wolf medallion on his chest gleams. Jaskier throws a handful of perfumed bath salts in the water, then grabs a fine-toothed comb on the nearby table and lovingly starts brushing Eskel’s hair back. It has grown long in their months of travel, reaching past his shoulders, and Jaskier absolutely adores it. Would Eskel let him braid it for the occasion? "Hmm, that feels good." 

Jaskier keeps brushing his hair tenderly. For a short moment, there is nothing but the sound of the gentle lapping of water, the strokes of the comb, and their breathing. It is evening and the street outside is quiet. When he's done, he tells Eskel to rinse his hair, and lays a folded towel on the stool, letting the Witcher finish his bath in peace while he gets dressed. 

He stands, goes to the bed where both their outfits are laid and puts on his: undergarments come first, then a new linen shirt, a pleated doublet of a rich teal color (that he knows looks _amazing_ on him) and a pair of cream-colored high waisted trousers. Jaskier buckles a thick brown leather belt around his waist, and puts on matching boots; as for jewelry, he's decided to keep it simple - a golden hoop earring, his wedding ring, and a golden brooch representing a lark which he pins to the front of his doublet. 

He looks at his reflection in the medium-sized mirror of the inn's room with a frown, adjusting his cuffs and his collar until they feel just right. Jaskier passes his hand through his hair, grimacing at the silver on the sides. Behind him he can see Eskel lazily step out of the bath and dry his feet off. The other man leaves the towel around his neck and walks buck naked up to Jaskier to hug him from behind. “You look good,” he rumbles, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He kisses the top of Jaskier’s ear, who shivers and melts against him. “I wish I could tear all of this off of you now.” 

“I'd like that,” Jaskier says just as quietly. Eskel hugs him tighter and rolls his hips slowly, making Jaskier gasp and smile _. “Ah_ , Eskel - I'd like that but we need to get dressed, love, or we’ll be late.” 

Eskel pouts but steps back, not before swatting Jaskier's ass playfully. “I know, I know… This is important.” He grabs his own shirt on the bed and slips it over his head, but forgot to unlace the front. He remains stuck. “... Shit," he says, muffled. "Jaskier, a little help here?" His husband chuckles fondly and helps him. "Thanks." 

Eskel puts on his undergarments, his pants, and ties a discreet codpiece of the same deep brown color as the trousers around his waist (having strictly refused to go anywhere completely armor-free, not even to a family dinner with Jaskier’s old parents.) His knee pads are next; Jaskier then hands him his sleeveless red leather jerkin with twinkling eyes. It’s tailored to fit Eskel perfectly, and in Jaskier’s humble opinion, the Witcher looks _hot as hell_ in it. 

Eskel sighs good-naturedly and puts it on, clasping the leather straps on the front shut. He then slips on his beloved fingerless gloves while Jaskier helps him with his shoulder pads. Next are the socks and boots, and Eskel is finally ready. Jaskier takes a step back to give him a once over and whistles appreciatively, making him blush. 

"So?" Eskel drawls, putting his hands over his hips in an exaggerated pose. "Am I pretty yet?" Jaskier nods vigorously, and the witcher scratches at his scar, a nervous habit. “Great. Can I go back to my book or do we need to leave immediately?”

Jaskier peers out the window and looks at the position of the sun. “No, we’ve got a bit of time left, and I need to trim my beard and brush my hair…" He looks back at Eskel. "I’d really like to braid yours if you want. And - oooh…! I just had a brilliant idea. Eskel, love of my life, may I please put some eye-makeup on you?” 

Eskel is confused. “Eye makeup?” 

“Just a bit of black around your eyes - I think it'd look gorgeous."

“Err. Well, why not?" Eskel shrugs and smiles. "There's a first time for everything. Are you going to put on some too?” 

“I usually do a bit before performances when I have time," Jaskier informs him. "But not tonight, I don't feel like it. But with you I think it's going to look great - discreet, yet enough to make all the difference. Your gorgeous eyes will pop out more.” 

“As if people didn’t notice them enough already,” Eskel says dryly. “Did you _know_ having yellow eyes is apparently not a normal human feature?” 

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “No shit? And did you know yellow is not a bad color? It carries a lot of positive symbolism. It signifies joy. Take marigolds, dahlias, orchids. Yellow is poetic! It's a rich pigment used in paintings, one of the primary colors. Lemon, ochre, safran - yellow is _exotic_. It makes one dream! Yellow shines bright like the sun and burns like melted gold; it's a warm color. And I think it's become my favorite since I know you. I love your eyes so much.” 

“...Yes, but you’re an odd human,” Eskel says, his face almost as red as his jerkin. He's always been weak for compliments. “The bard odd enough to marry a Witcher.” 

“Do you regret marrying me?"

“Are you kidding me? I adore you.” 

Jaskier steps closer to kiss him. “Love you too.” 

Eskel sighs. They part and he sits on the bed, grabbing the old book on the nightstand to settle down to read. The story's one of his latest findings bought at the library of the previous town they'd visited: a fictional tale about a young farmer’s boy, who accidentally rescues a runaway princess in the forest; thanks to this incident, the boy rises above his station, becoming first a squire and then a proper knight. And of course, he falls in love with the princess, because Eskel is secretly a romantic who likes hopeful stories and happy endings. 

Perhaps he wanted to become a knight and rescue damsels in distress once upon a time like a hero. Jaskier thinks the work Witchers do daily is heroic, but they certainly aren't treated with the same respect as heroes from the stories - even if the popularity of Jaskier's songs changed that in the last decade. Eskel, although he is thankful for what Jaskier managed to accomplish, doesn't think it's that important to better their reputation anymore. After all, he says, Witchers are a dying breed and the world is changing. Monsters are becoming less and less frequent as civilization expands. 

Using the small mirror suspended to the wall, Jaskier trims his beard until he’s satisfied and combs his hair. That done, he ties his purse at his belt and gestures for Eskel to come sit on the stool so he can braid his hair. The Witcher looks at him above the edge of his book. “Already?” He looks out the window at the darkening sky. “Ah, shit.” 

"You're nervous." 

Eskel sighs and puts down his book, marking the page. "I am - your parents will be afraid of me, Jaskier, and I don't blame them. Earning their trust is going to be difficult." 

"At first, perhaps," Jaskier acknowledges. “But you're as well-learned as them and you're polite, kind, a good conversationalist and anyone with two eyes can see how much you love me. It'll be _fine_. Yes they might be uncomfortable at first because they are in unfamiliar territory, but it’ll pass.”

Eskel sits on the stool. Jaskier thread his fingers through his dark hair, separating it into three even strands. “What do your parents like? You said they were retired.” 

“Well they enjoy reading, just like you. We've got a big library at the manor, I need to show it to you. Mother loves historical novels, she also crochets, and traveled a lot in her youth,” Jaskier tells him with a smile. “My father loves gardening, jousting, and he’s taken a liking to fishing in his old age.” 

“And what about your brother?” 

“I don’t know if he’ll be there. What does he even like…? Hmm. Reading too since he met his wife in a library. He likes geography, knows the name of every place on the Continent… and theater! I recall him saying they often went with his wife to watch plays before they had a baby.”

“Iris and Viktor and Diana,” Eskel lists the members of Jaskier's family, frowning in concentration as he remembers old conversations. “Claudius and Anne-Marie de Lettenhove... Do they have pets?” 

“Save for the horses, no. Although maybe that has changed since I last visited?"

“I miss Lil’ Bleater,” Eskel says as Jaskier ties the end of the braid with a thin leather strap. “I hope he’s not too lonely at Kaer Morhen.” 

Jaskier's heart melts. He wraps his arms around Eskel’s shoulders, nuzzling the man’s neck. 

Gods. Eskel and his tiny _pet goat_. How can such an impressive man be so adorable? 

“I’m sure he misses you too. All done!” 

Eskel raises a hand to touch his hair curiously. “I know nothing about braiding, but that looks good.” 

“I could let my hair grow and teach you. We’d be known as… the Braided… Married… Men?” 

“That sounds terrible.” Eskel turns around to look at him with a smirk. “I can't picture you with long hair. With the amount of silver in there you might end up looking just like Geralt.” 

Jaskier opens his mouth in mock-offense. “Hey! I resent that! Take it back!” 

Eskel chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. You'd be very dashing with long hair of course, my love. Do what you want." 

"Humph. Sit still so I can do your eyes.” 

“Oh yes, I forgot. Not going to lie, I am curious.” 

“I said don't move." 

"Sorry." 

"Close your eyes…” Jaskier has a little metallic box and a very thin stick in his hands, which he took out of his bag and placed on top of the cabinet in their room earlier. "Alright." 

Eskel’s eyes flutter. He remains frozen in place, holding his breath as Jaskier coats the end of the stick in black then brings it to the corner of Eskel’s lid, tracing a thin line up to the middle of his eye. He then uses his pinky finger to smudge the color, and repeats the process on the other eye. “Open them?”

Eskel looks up at him under his eyelashes and raises an eyebrow. Jaskier bites his lips. It is even better than he imagined - the eyeliner accentuates the unusual color of Eskel's eyes, and gives his gaze an intensity that makes heat curl low in Jaskier’s belly. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.” 

Eskel smirks. “You smell aroused..." 

“I’m only human and right now? You look very hot, Eskel.” 

“I want to touch you,” Eskel says, eyes darkening. 

Jaskier moans his loss. “Aaah, me too, so fucking much. But we really have to get going… Tonight? If we’re not too tired?” 

“Tonight,” Eskel concedes. “Come on, let’s go meet your parents.” 

\---

They walk the short path from the inn to the mansion of the Lettenhove family, arms linked, and stop in front of the gate. 

Eskel admires the house as Jaskier rings the doorbell. The gate is in wrought iron with intricate swirling patterns, the work of skilled craftsmanship, and the lengthy path leading to the house entrance is lined with trimmed trees and white rose bushes. The stone arch of the front porch is decorated with engravings of fantastical animals, intertwined with vines and floating feminine heads (deities?) which Eskel can make out even from afar. There is a weird animal cry coming from the side, and he raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Is that a peacock? Your parents own peacocks?” 

“Not to my knowledge, these must be new.” 

“That's very cliché. You know, nobles displaying their wealth by owning rare exotic birds.” 

Jaskier laughs. “Well I never said they didn’t live up to their status - it’s just me who’s, shall we say, the ugly little duckling of this family. I preferred roaming the country penniless instead of following in my father's’ footsteps - meaning taking a wife immediately after graduation and working with Father as a lawyer.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” 

“Never have. Ah, Maria!” Jaskier calls, waving to the maid who hurries down the path to open the gate for them. She holds an oil lamp in one hand and a heavy set of keys in the other. 

“Master Jaskier! Welcome back!” The gate creaks open, and Maria steps aside to let them in. “Your parents await you in the study.” 

“Thank you Maria. Oh, this is Eskel, my soulmate and husband,” he says. “Yes, he’s a Witcher, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly, so you can close your mouth lest you want to keep looking like a fish out of water.” Maria immediately closes her mouth and makes an effort to regain her composure. 

Primly, she leads them to the porch of the house, although she can't help but steal glances at Eskel frequently. It must be the first time she ever sees a Witcher, and Jaskier can only imagine what stories she’s heard about their kind before. 

Eskel is uneasy. He tries smiling at her but it only makes the acrid smell of her fear spike and he gives up, his shoulders slumping. _This_ is exactly what he feared would happen. Next to him, Jaskier walks with his head held up high, seemingly calm and composed, but Eskel can see the tension he carries in the set of his shoulders. 

Mariah lets them into the mansion and leaves them here. Eskel curls his hands into fists, and takes a deep breath. _Just have to get through this evening._

Jaskier takes his hand and squeezes, his eyes soft.

At least Eskel didn't insist on wearing his usual spiked gambeson and his two swords. He feels a bit naked without them, but the jerkin is more comfortable to move in and makes him look less impressive. It was his own idea. And while he doesn't have his trademark weapons, he did keep a dagger sheathed to this leather belt, just in case (Jaskier can't expect him to waltz around completely defenseless, that's not how he’s been raised - constant vigilance, Vesemir would say.) 

“This is my parents’ study,” Jaskier says. Eskel indeed could hear voices behind it, feminine and masculine. _Fuck. There we go_. “Ready?” He knocks on the door. 

"Come in!" Someone says, and Eskel squares his shoulders and follows Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> timeline wise, this takes place AFTER Jaskier and Eskel have been to Kaer Morhen (which will be written and posted eventually! i need me some Geralt trying to apologize to Jaskier XD) but this whole 'meeting the family' thing is what I first thought about when contemplating the possibility of making this into a series, so that's what you get first ! <3
> 
> the second chapter should be posted by the end of the week! thank you for reading, and let me know what you think ! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are all ogling him, taking the Witcher in from head to foot: from his yellow eyes to his scars to his jerkin, gloves, dagger scabbard and heavy boots. Eskel comes one step too close and hears the sudden spike in their heartbeats. His stomach churns. The old lady is looking at him with wide eyes, her hand in front of her mouth, and _there’s_ the pungent smell of fear permeating the air around the three humans. 

He barely has time to glimpse the study room with three people inside, when a tiny young thing with twirling dark hair runs across the room and hugs Jaskier’s legs fiercely, nearly knocking him off his feet. 

“UNCLE JAS! I MISSED YOU! YOU WERE GONE FO-RE-VAH!" She cries, and Eskel winces at the sheer volume of her voice. 

"Oh dear," Jaskier says with an embarrassed chuckle. He ruffles his niece's hair and Eskel smiles. "Hello, Diana." 

Diana clings to his legs, looking up at him with twinkling eyes in adoration. Eskel is acutely aware of the heavy stares of the three other adults in the corner of his vision who can only be Jaskier’s parents and his brother. His neck prickles with heat. He tries to focus on the adorable picture Jaskier and Diana make instead. 

His husband takes the girl up in his arms easily, carrying most of her weight on his hip in a well-practiced hold. “I missed you too, sweetheart. How are you?” His eyes are so very soft, and Eskel’s heart is doing somersaults in his chest. He clears his throat. 

“I’m good!” Diana fiddles with Jaskier's collar, utterly oblivious to the rising tension in the room. Her eyes are very big and bright and the same sky blue color as Jaskier’s. “I’ve a new doll! Her name is Maeve!” 

Jaskier kisses the top of her head and looks at Eskel apologetically. It seems there’s no getting away from a Lettenhove when they demand your full attention - no matter how tiny they are. She babbles on happily, her speech still unpracticed, and Jaskier _ooohs_ and _aaahs_ in all the right places, leaving Eskel alone to face the rest of the family. 

Well. There’s nothing for it. Eskel scratches his scar. He straightens up, squares his shoulders and moves with feigned confidence to meet Jaskier’s parents and sibling. 

Two elderly people are sitting, respectively in a plush armchair and a sofa, while a younger man (who can only be Jaskier’s brother) is standing. He and Eskel are of the same height; the man has blue eyes and curly brown hair cropped short. 

They are all _ogling_ him, taking the Witcher in from head to foot: from his yellow eyes to his scars to his jerkin, gloves, dagger scabbard and heavy boots. Eskel comes one step too close and hears the sudden spike in their heartbeats. His stomach churns. The old lady is looking at him with wide eyes, her hand in front of her mouth, and _there’s_ the pungent smell of fear permeating the air around the three humans. 

_Fuck._

His shoulders slump as he tries to make himself look less intimidating and impressive. Jaskier always smells of love and lust whenever Eskel is near, and it has made him complacent: it seems he forgot that for the longest time, whenever he entered a town, this was how people normally reacted to him: a mix of awe and bone-deep fear. He doesn’t know why he hoped this would be any different. Eskel would _never_ hurt innocent people, but his mutations distinctly mark him as different and dangerous -- and humans instinctively see him as a predator, as Other. Jaskier doesn’t, but Jaskier is eccentric. 

Melitele help him, coming here was a terrible idea. 

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence. The old man leans forward in his chair, peering at Eskel above the rim of his moon-shaped glasses, lines creasing on his forehead. His mustache is neatly trimmed, his white hair side-parted and slicked back, and he wears a remarkable green pleated doublet with silver embroidery. 

His wife shifts in her seat, and the heavy jewelry at her ears, neck, and wrists shines in the light

And Jaskier’s brother locks his jaw and breaks the tension: he holds out his hand for Eskel to shake, not quite daring to meet the Witcher’s eyes. Eskel doesn’t mind and shakes it in relief. At least they’re not afraid to touch him, or at least Viktor isn’t.

“You must be Eskel,” Viktor says. His palm is sweaty but his grip is firm - he’s a businessman, Jaskier had said. “It’s a… pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Eskel replies. “Viktor, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only bad things I hope,” Viktor jokes, his posture straightening up now that Eskel has had quite a normal first human interaction with him. “Come now, let me introduce you. Witcher Eskel, this is the Viscountess Anne-Marie De Lettenhove, my and Jaskier’s mother. And our father, the Viscount and Admiral Claudius Gale De Lettenhove. Welcome to our home. I came here with my wife and daughter -” There’s a giggle of delight near the room’s doors, where Jaskier is still playing with Diana. “but I’m afraid you won’t meet Iris tonight. She was feeling quite under the weather.” 

“Oh. Nothing bad, I hope?” Eskel enquires. 

Viktor waves a hand. “No, no, nothing to worry about. She’s only pregnant with our second child.” 

“I see! My congratulations.” 

“Thank you." 

Eskel puts a hand on his chest, over his heart, and bows deeply to Jaskier’s parents in respect. “Sir and Madam, it is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you again for inviting me.” 

They stare at him, and then Anne-Marie says lightly, “He’s very polite, isn’t he?” to her husband, who nods. The tip of Eskel’s ears go pink. “Why, you’re not what we expected. It is nice to meet you as well, Witcher. I hope you will enjoy this evening’s dinner. I… apologize for our poor welcome earlier. Jaskier did warn us, but we were… startled,” she finishes delicately. 

Eskel nods, never having expected her to actually apologize. “That’s quite alright, Madam, no offense taken. I know how I look.” 

She nods and her voice takes on a fascinated edge. “It is not natural, is it? The result of… _mutations_ , I believe?” 

Eskel shifts and crosses his arms. “That’s right. We are given mutagens as young boys in addition to physical training to make us stronger.” That’s about as much information as Eskel feels comfortable giving. 

“Interesting, interesting… And - may I ask where your family is from?” 

“Err. From Kaedwen,” Eskel says. “My - my family were hillfolk.” 

“Oh? What did they do?” 

“Well my dad was a shepherd, my mom a weavess... She spun wool and then sold it at the market.” He’s not feeling very good talking about this. 

If they got over their fear, people usually became morbidly curious about Witchers, given that there were so many rumors around them and so very little verified information. It seemed Jaskier’s mother was the same, but Eskel really didn’t fancy spilling his tragic backstory at dinner. 

Luckily, he is saved from further prodding by Jaskier’s father, who finally gets up to greet him. They shake hands, and Eskel thinks that Jaskier looks like a perfect blend of his parents: he had his father’s nose and his mother’s eyes and hair. The members of the Lettenhove family were all quite tall for humans, even Anne-Marie. Compared to Eskel’s bulk, it was easy to see Jaskier as lithe and fragile, when he was actually just as tall and quite strong. 

“It is nice to meet you,” Claudius says stiffly, his voice low. “Witcher Eskel of Kaedwen... Please have a seat.” Anne-Marie reached for a tiny bell on the low table and rung it. A butler hurried in from another door. 

“Let’s have the aperitif, shall we?” The butler nodded and left the room just as quickly. Eskel’s parents sat down again, and Eskel did too in a cushioned chair on the other end of the sofa while Viktor took the second identical one at his side. This was the moment Jaskier chose to join them at last, holding Diana by the hand. His hair was a bit ruffled and he smiled sheepishly at everyone. He handed Diana back to his brother and took the seat next to his mother on the sofa, opposite Viktor. 

“Mother. Father. Brother.” He nodded and sighed. “Viktor, your daughter is a _menace_.” He met Eskel’s eyes and gave him a warm smile. Eskel itched to take his hand in his for reassurance. 

Viktor laughed. “That she is! Right, Didi? You’re our little menace!” 

“Papaaaa?” Diana asked, twisting in his lap.

“Yes?” 

“Who’s the big man?” She whispered in her father’s ear as though no one else could hear her. She was staring at Eskel with eyes round like saucers, as though she’d only just noticed him. Eskel cleared his throat and spoke to her, trying his best to make his voice soft and gentle, as he’d been told before that he sounded like dogs barking, and he didn’t want to send the little girl running. But she didn’t seem afraid, just curious and very shy. 

“I’m the husband of your uncle Jaskier.” 

“Ooooooooh.” Her face lit up. “You’re married? Like Papa and Mama?” 

Eskel scratched at his scar again, feeling a bit timid himself. “Yes.” 

“Oooooooh… Do you have a baby too?”

“Err. Hmm."

“Mama says I’m having a little brother or a sister! Right, Papa? We’re having a baby!” 

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said gently. “But Jaskier and Eskel don’t have a baby.” 

She scrunched up her little nose. “Why not?” 

“Eskel and I can’t have babies like your Mama and Papa because we’re both men, Diana,” Jaskier said smoothly, and Eskel nodded awkwardly. He’d never… He never asked Jaskier if he wanted a family of his own. 

Did he? He seemed very happy with Eskel, but. Didn't every man dream of having a son or daughter…? A legacy? Could they adopt? The life of a Witcher was very ill-suited to raise a child, Geralt and Ciri had demonstrated that.

“Oooh, okay,” Diana said simply, and yawned. “Papa, I’m tired.” 

“Bed time!” Viktor murmured, and kissed the top of her head. To the rest of them, he said, “She already ate. You’ll excuse me.” He left the room with Diana in his arms, but paused right at the doorway. “Eskel, I should like to spar with you sometime. I’ve always wanted to see a Witcher fight.” He grinned and walked out. 

“... Spar?” Eskel repeated, surprised. Anne-Marie sighed. 

“And here I hoped he’d forgotten that foolish idea. Ever since we received Jaskier’s last letters it is all Viktor talks about - he desperately wishes to fight you, the gods know why... You don’t have to, of course, I’m afraid he is a bit childish sometimes.” 

Eskel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint him, but I’d rather not spar with him. I’m a Witcher. I could hurt him.” 

“Even with wooden swords?” 

“Even so.” 

Jaskier then hastily changed the delicate subject by interrogating his mother about her crocheting projects. 

\--

The evening went by slowly. 

The butler came back with the aperitif, which they ate and drank as they talked - Eskel discovering the bubbly taste of fancy _champagne_ for the first time - before heading to the living-room for dinner. 

Eskel remembered Jaskier’s patient lessons about meal etiquette in the nobility. He took particular care to always use the cutlery on the furthest end of his plate for every course; he chewed slowly, wiping his mouth every two seconds; he avoided putting his elbows on the table, even though he did slip once or twice. It was a bit hard not to fall into old habits -- Witchers weren’t particularly known for their table manners or refinement, but he made an effort for Jaskier. He wanted Jaskier’s parents to at least _tolerate_ him, even if they didn't like him. 

So far he seemed to be doing well, if the way Jaskier often lovingly smiled at him was any indication. 

The wine of excellent quality also loosened Eskel’s tongue, and made him relax enough to forget how nervous he originally was about the whole situation. They talked about a variety of subjects, Eskel regaling the table with his most heroics deeds (Jaskier had a top five) so they’d see him in a good light, and the parents discussing more mundane things like neighbourhood and family gossip, the new peacocks in the garden (a mated pair, apparently) and their granddaughter's upcoming birthday. 

After starters came a salad, then the main course: a delicious roasted salmon with juicy potatoes, green beans and a lemon-based sauce, the whole seasoned to perfection. There were also plates of cheese, including some Eskel had never tasted before in his long life, and another lettuce, and then _cake_ for dessert, a complicated piece with macaroons and raspberries and a delicious sugary scream on the inside. 

Eskel had never eaten so well in his life. At the end he was replete, content, and felt pleasantly drowsy. He tuned out the conversation to stare at Jaskier. His husband was laughing at something his father said, and he looked gorgeous, and Anne-Marie was smiling too, and it hit Eskel suddenly that things were going _well_. 

He had no doubts that Jaskier’s parents would disparage him privately once they left, but they were making a conscious effort to make him feel at home and include him in the conversation for their son’s sake. Jaskier was lucky. 

Eskel finished his glass of wine. A servant made the rounds, but he put his hand on top of his own glass to indicate he refused another drink lest he wished to make a fool of himself. Even with his Witcher body, wine was a treacherous drink. 

After dinner, Anne-Marie offered to show Eskel the family library, as she now knew he was quite the avid reader, while Jaskier and his father retired to the study for a smoke and an after-dinner liqueur. Jaskier gave Eskel a nod of encouragement, doubtless needing to talk to his father alone, and so Eskel followed the Viscountess down the corridors of the mansion. 

The library of the De Lettenhove family was indeed remarkable. The multitude of books stacked inside high mahogany bookcases were protected by thin window panes made of glass, some of which had locks. Eskel took in the large room with childish awe while Anne-Marie explained that they’d been meaning to sort out all of the books to give some away but never quite had the time nor the energy to do so. If they had planned to stay in Lettenhove longer, the Witcher would have gladly offered his help. He _adored_ libraries, and this one seemed like a real treasure trove of knowledge and dreamscapes. In another life, perhaps he could have been a librarian… 

Anne-Marie said he could take a few books with him if he wanted. Best he have them than they stay here and gather dust. Eskel thanked her profusely, and grabbed three books at random off the shelves, promising to bring them back to her the next time they were in the area. And as they left the library, Anne-Marie said, apropos-of-nothing: “You really do love my son, I can see it in your eyes. I admit me and my husband were quite worried at first when we received news of Jaskier’s newly wedded status, but… Looking at you both, I believe you deserve each other. Jaskier seems happy, and I’m really glad he found you, because the last time he visited us, oh, he was miserable.” 

Eskel swallowed around the lump in his throat, flushing in front of her approval. Jaskier had told him that the last time he’d come to visit his parents was soon after he’d fought with Geralt in Caigorn, no wonder he’d been miserable at the time. “Thank you, Madam, that - that means a lot to me. I really do love him. I am... honored and glad to be Jaskier’s husband. And - and his soulmate.” 

“I’m happy to hear it.” She smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You know, Eskel, for a Witcher you’re not as scary as we feared once we get used to it... I suppose your kind just have a bad reputation. Or perhaps you’re the exception to confirm the rule?” 

“What’s our reputation?” 

“Rough, rude, crass and violent men.” 

“Well.” Eskel laughed. “I won’t lie, some of us are like that. There are other Witcher schools, and dozens of other Witchers that walk the Path all year. I can’t speak for everyone. But the prejudice that follows us mostly stems from fear in the face of the unknown. We look different - we are different. More than humans, less than monsters, we were born because of magic. It is hard for anyone - even ourselves - to wrap their head around that... I really don’t blame you for fearing me. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror for the longest time after the mutations. But fear breeds hatred. It’s a vicious circle, and one of the many things I love in Jaskier is that, with his _songs_ , he has tried - and succeeded! - in breaking that circle. He's amazing.” 

“Why, I've never looked at things from that angle...” 

They kept discussing the subject amiably until they stood in front of the study again. Jaskier and his father were sitting in front of the fireplace, speaking in low voices that Eskel could hear well before they opened the door. 

“... happy you’re happy, I am, but where does it lead…?...” 

“... doesn’t matter…” 

“It does… You’re only human, son.” 

Anne-Marie opened the door, and father and son looked up at them in surprise. Jaskier noticed the three books under Eskel’s arm, and smiled in amusement. “Oh Melitele. _Thank you_ Mother, now he won’t pay attention to me or the rest of the world until he’s done reading those. A real bookworm,” he added fondly. 

“Lies and slander,” Eskel protested, hugging the books close to his chest. “I’ve _no_ idea what you are talking about.”

Anne-Marie addressed her husband. “It’s getting late, dear, I shall head to bed. Will you be so kind as to escort our guests to the door? Eskel, it’s really been lovely meeting you. Good luck on the Path.” 

Claudius nodded. Jaskier rose up, put his tumbler down on the table and stretched. Eskel agreed: it was about time they took their leave. This whole thing had deeply exhausted him, worse than fighting a monster. Watching his behavior all the time and performing around the nobility was more subtle, tiring work. 

Anne-Marie bid them good night and retired. Jaskier thanked him for the invitation. Eskel imitated him and said to give his compliments to the chef. As for Jaskier’s brother Viktor, who had vanished after taking Diana upstairs, Jaskier suspected he had simply fallen asleep reading a bedtime story to his daughter. He often did. Apparently his parents had gotten used to him skipping dinner as it kept happening. 

Claudius accompanied them to the gate, where he gave Eskel a last approving glance and a respectful nod. He hugged his son tight and bade them both goodnight, then turned back to the manor, and _finally,_ finally Eskel felt like he could breathe again. 

That...had been way more stressful that it had any right to be. What image did Jaskier’s parents have of him now? The thought haunted him. They seemed to like him, but humans could be deceptively good liars, and for all their kind words the faint scent of fear had still lingered in the air all evening. 

“They like you,” Jaskier said as though reading his mind, breaking the silence. He linked his hand with Eskel’s and put his head on his husband's shoulder. “Gods, I’m sorry about Viktor asking to duel you. He has his bright moments, but this? This wasn’t one of them.”

Eskel snorted. “Like I said - I like a good sparring match but I’m afraid I’d seriously hurt him. Humans aren’t meant to fight witchers. I only spar with my brothers, you’ve seen us.” 

“I have.” Jaskier made a face. “If Viktor insists you could always tell him to try and beat you at Gwent instead. Or arm wrestling, but that wouldn’t be fair.” He snickered. “Although I don’t think I’ve ever heard my parents talk about Gwent, which is a downright shame! They don’t know what they’re missing - my father tried to teach me to play chess once, but I couldn’t focus long enough to find it interesting so he gave up.” 

“Cute,” Eskel commented. 

“Not at all, I drove them up the wall. I couldn’t stay still. I had three different nannies before they hired one who could handle the stormcloud that I was.” 

“I bet she was terrific.” 

“She was. A bit scary at times, but she knew her job and she clearly liked children. I was really sad when she left.” 

They’d arrived at the inn. The place was empty save for the barkeep, busy drying a bunch of tankards with a cloth. He nodded at them as they passed by and climbed the stairs up to their room, where Jaskier all but threw himself down on the bed. 

“It’s over,” he groaned. “Sweet Melitele, I love my parents but if I hear Mother ramble on _one more time_ about stuff she’s already told me five times before, I swear I will lose it.” 

“She’s a very kind woman. You look like her,” Eskel said as he took off his boots, then his leather belt. Jaskier sat on the bed and started undressing as well. 

“They didn’t even compliment me - or you - on our outfits,” he mourned as he folded his doublet. 

“I’m sure they thought the best of it,” Eskel cajoled, taking off his shirt. 

“Gods, I am so tired.” Jaskier opened his arms. He still had his shirt and trousers on. “Come here, love, I need to kiss you. Been wanting to all evening...” 

Eskel was only too happy to climb on the bed on all fours above him. Jaskier wrapped his arms around his neck to kiss him, and Eskel cupped his face in his hand to deepen it, making Jaskier’s breath hitch. “Hmm…"

Eskel bit his lower lip gently, a familiar heat pooling low in his belly. “Take this off?" he murmured, tugging at the front of Jaskier’s shirt. Jaskier scrambled to obey while Eskel distracted him by kissing his jaw and nibbling at his sensitive neck. He could hear Jaskier’s heart racing, a sweet melody. 

He helped Jaskier take his shirt off and straddled him, knees on either side of Jaskier’s hips as he raked his large hands down the man’s torso, gazing at him with dark eyes and a smirk. He thumbed a pink nipple and Jaskier’s breath hitched again, before raising both hands above his head, a clear invitation for Eskel to take control. Eskel immediately pinned Jaskier’s arms down with one hand as he unlaced the man’s pants with the other. He palmed his hardening cock through his undergarments and Jaskier’s back arched off the bed. “Esk -- Eskel… Yes, feels good…” 

Eskel’s blood roared in his ears. He struggled with his codpiece, unlacing it and throwing it to the side as Jaskier rolled his hips, seeking friction. He hurriedly unlaced his own breeches, took his cock out, licked his palm and stroked himself once, twice to take the edge off. Jaskier whined, rock hard. Eskel resumed touching him lightly, teasingly, dragging two fingers up Jaskier’s length and Jaskier shuddered from head to toe. He watched as Eskel slowly, slowly pulled Jaskier's undergarments down his thighs, and threw his head back on the pillow in frustration. “Gods you’re such a fucking teaaaase aah please, fuck, _yes --_ ” 

Eskel had wrapped his right hand around both of them. He slowly glided his fist from tip to base, exposing the purple, angry-looking heads of both their cocks. His was both thicker and longer than Jaskier’s, and he liked to compare them just like that. Eskel’s mind was clouded with lust. Fuck, he wanted to lick Jaskier down there, he wanted to suck him off, but right now… he was too pent up to stop doing this. It felt so fucking good. He quickened his pace with a growl and Jaskier’s moans went up an octave as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

The pleasure built up quickly. Jaskier’s wrists were sliding from his hand. Eskel leaned down and kissed him, letting out a snarl as the change in position made the pleasure spike. “Say my name again. Say my name.” He bit Jaskier’s neck, and the man stiffened under him, his mouth opening in a ‘o’ of surprise as he came suddenly, his thighs trembling, his cock spurting over Eskel’s hand and his own chest. 

_“Eskel...! Oooh, oooh, oooh gods ---”_

“You’re so hot,” Eskel grunted. “You make me so hot, fuck, Jaskier -” Giving up on his own pleasure he stroked Jaskier through his orgasm until the man jerked away from him, hypersensitive. Eskel murmured an apology and leaned on all fours over his husband to kiss him again. He couldn’t get enough of his mouth. 

Jaskier reciprocated, wrapping a hand around Eskel’s hard cock, who groaned as his arms gave out under him. He buried his shaky moans in Jaskier’s neck as Jaskier worked him to completion and Eskel spilled hot on the man’s chest, their spend mingling. 

With a satisfied sigh, he rolled to the side to avoid crushing Jaskier who immediately snuggled up against him with a smug smile, resting his head on Eskel’s shoulder. For a moment, there was nothing but comfortable silence. Eskel turned his head to look at his husband. “...Sticky,” he remarked, dragging a finger up Jaskier’s chest through their mingled come. 

“I’ll deal with that in five minutes,” Jaskier murmured. “Today went well, Eskel, and I’m happy... I’m so proud of you.” 

Eskel didn’t really know what to say in front of the genuineness of Jaskier’s words. He laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t embarrass you in front of your family.” 

“I knew you wouldn’t, and I’m not ashamed of you… You’re my husband and my soulmate and _my_ Witcher and if anyone has a problem with that, they can -" He yawned adorably. "They can go fuck themselves...” 

Eskel’s poor heart swelled in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. “Gods I _love_ you so much. The hell did I ever do to deserve you?” 

“You must have done something good...” Jaskier hummed, then yawned loudly, and Eskel hugged him tighter. “Sleepy.” 

“Good night, love.” 

“Good night angel.”

**

Long after Jaskier had fallen asleep, Eskel stayed staring at the ceiling of their room, listening to the man’s regular breathing. The thought had hit him like a bolt of lightning: that man was the love of his life. _Jaskier_ was the love of his life, and sooner or later Eskel _was_ going to lose him. 

He looked down at his husband. His hair and beard were already streaked with silver, and how old was he? Forty? Fifty? In between? 

How many years did he have left? Thirty, if they were lucky? Thirty years on this earth… A mere blink in a Witcher’s extended lifespan, but the whole world to a human. 

They had to find a solution. Jaskier couldn’t just… _die_. He couldn't. Eskel wouldn’t bear to lose him. People died all the time, but... Jaskier wasn’t just _people_ , Jaskier was his husband. Eskel loved him desperately, he’d do anything for him. 

They’d effectively avoided talking about this delicate subject for two whole years, but the matter of Jaskier’s mortality hung above them like a Damocles Sword. There was no slowing down time or delaying the inevitable. Jaskier would grow old while Eskel wouldn’t. And what was there to be done? Make Jaskier immortal somehow? Or… make himself mortal…? That was impossible. A Witcher’s mutations were irreversible. 

Jaskier wouldn’t survive mutagens, not at his age, and anyway that knowledge was long since lost. Eskel knew of no other way to make him immortal, or immortal enough to live as long as Eskel did. Turn Jaskier into a creature like a vampire or a werewolf? Yeah, right. Jaskier wasn’t a creature of the night: he was the opposite, was born to be free, to live and thrive amongst humans. Cursing him with this fate would be as good as a slow, torturous execution. 

No. There was nothing to be done. 

He resolved to think about this again with a clear head in the morning, but for now… Gods but he was _here_. Jaskier was here with him, in his arms, safe and sound. Eskel lifted his hand to contemplate his own wedding ring. 

With vehemence, he would enjoy this life he had with Jaskier to its fullest, every minute and every hour of every _damn_ day, for however long they had together. 

It was already a miracle that someone as good as Jaskier had found _him_ , and decided he was worth keeping. 

Eskel closed his eyes and forced his agitated mind to settle down by going through a series of breathing exercises. Shortly after, he was nodding off as well, his arm curled protectively around his husband’s shoulder. 

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this little addition to the series, and thank you for the kind comments on the last chapter! more to come in this verse ! <3 <3


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